Seaside Ceremony

by Sandra Ervin Adams

 

I select three shells,

small and shiny, carry

them to a dry spot, set

them aside. Cross-legged,

I write in sand, a five,

a six, my new age.

In the center

I fit the shells together.

 

Fingers of sun warm my arms,

head, face. No trace of trouble here,

I close my eyes. Clear

water washes the edge

of the beach. A white gull watches.

At one with sun, sand, and sky,

I leave my shell behind.

 

 

 

 

(Published in New River High Tide,

Council for the Arts, 2008, and

They That Go Down to the Sea, 2010,

Old Mountain Press)